Page 128 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Special. Meaningful.

“You smell like wildflowers after a storm. So fucking pretty. Hold on,” he groans.

A deep rumble follows, building up from his chest, and that sound? It wrecks me.

He kneels, pulling me up with him, and now he’s holding all my weight, and I should be panicking. But I’m not.

Because Greyson Cole has me and I know he won’t let me fall.

He kisses me again. Like he can’t breathe without me, and I clutch at his shoulders, his neck, his cheeks—because the truth?

I don’t think I can breathe without him.

He thrusts harder now, and I feel him so deep. We’re both panting, breathless, holding each other so tight. He angles us down and my back meets the mattress.

Greyson’s hands are on my thighs, holding me wide as he pumps faster. Then I feel his fingers brush my clit, and that’s it.

I detonate. And he groans out loud, coming with me this time.

It’s together.

Simultaneous.

And it isn’t explosive.

It’s consuming.

Like twin flames in a void.

Like creation and devastation braided together.

Like something ancient and new all at once.

And afterward, when I lie there trembling slightly in his arms, staring at the dark wood ceiling, I still feel it.

The crack. The break.

My overwhelming response to his ardor. Tears prick my eyes, but I try to shut them out, because this is it.

This is the part where I fall.

This is the part where I start to hope.

His body is still in mine when he brushes my hair back from my face, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna make promises you know you can’t keep,” I say, trying for light. But failing.

What I want to do is beg. I want to say, Please let me be something you’ve decided to keep.

But I’m too afraid I’ll ruin it. So I stay silent.

And Greyson? He’s quiet for a long moment.

Then he leans down and presses his forehead to mine.